Rats
by Grand Puba of All The Smurfs
Summary: Pure nonsense with the lab rats of the Las Vegas Crime Lab. Funny, but not very good. If you like Black Eyed Peas and slime on Ecklie, click that title!


Music was blasting front inside the DNA lab, but nobody dared open the doors to tell the techies inside to cram a tinker toy in it. Nobody, that is, except for the seldom seen Conrad Ecklie.

He marched into the Las Vegas Crime Lab, in his creased suit and grumpy expression, glaring at his employees. Sara Sidle and Nick Stokes looked up from their paperwork when they heard his loud footsteps heading for the lab's closed doors.

"This should be good." Sara smirked, putting down her pen.

"Where's Warrick when things get interesting around here?" Nick asked, glancing to the side to see if Warrick Brown was walking through the doors yet. Though he didn't, Gil Grissom did, flipping through a case file, glasses perched at the tip of his nose. Catherine Willows followed, on her cell phone, yelling at who was to be assumed as Eddie, her ex-husband. Everything came into a standstill, however, when the lab double-doors were thrown open by Ecklie. All eyes traveled to the site inside.

The lab techs, always the scamps, were dancing around to 'My Humps' by the Black Eyed Peas. Greg Sanders, for whom the lab was unofficially dubbed Greg's Lab, was wearing a black cap sideways over his spiky blonde head, dark sunglasses over his brown eyes, and using a cotton swab as a microphone to Fergie's lines.

"Don't pull on my hand, boy, you ain't my man, boy…" He lip-synched, doing a twisted version of the moon walk. Mandy, a mousy-haired tech, was taking over Will. I. Am's lines, wearing a black top hat and a golden tooth. The rest of the techs, including David Hodges, a stout, stumpy dude in a Jamaican style dreadlock wig and goatee, Wendy Simms, a tall, thin woman singing backup into a comb and wearing a pink Troll wig over her brown ponytail, Archie Johnson, whose black hair spiked almost as much as Greg's and who hung clip-on Flava-Flav clock earrings on his ears, and Henry Andrews, the geekiest of them all in red lipstick and purple eye shadow, and a showgirl top over his lab coat, all danced along randomly. Archie did the robot over to Wendy, who was shaking her ass to the hip-hop music, and slapped it. She punched him in the arm, and Hodges laughed. He continued with his pyramid walk, poking his neck in and out and humming dance club music.

Ecklie, along with every other CSI curious to what happened in the lab when nobody else was looking, gaped at the sight. The techies took no notice to their newfound audience, and continued with what, by now, looked like a ritual sacrificial dance. Finally, Ecklie spoke up.

"What are you doing!?!" He boomed. He expected the music to abruptly stop and all of the lab techs to freeze and stare at their feet guiltily. Instead, however, the music blasted on, and Greg merely said, "Dancing, what are you doing?" Before taking Jacqui Franco by the waist and leading her off in a tango-style march. Sara, Warrick (who had entered around the fifth verse), and Nick couldn't help but laugh out loud, being rewarded with a nasty glare from the assistant director. Sara suddenly remembered something.

"Greg, I need those--" She started, even though she was pretty sure this moment was probably the most inappropriate time on the planet.

"--fiber results? Got 'em right here. But first," Greg turned off the music (which raised boos and hisses from his colleagues) and ducked under one of his tables. A moment later he reappeared, his glasses and hat gone, a gaudy purple turban in their place, "you must first address me as Grand Puba." This time Grissom, who was usually very quiet and polite, guffawed. Greg gave a tiny bow. Sara rolled her eyes.

"No, just give it to me." She huffed, as the techs and CSIs went back to work (but the techs seemed to be arguing with Ecklie about keeping their costumes on).

"Fine, but what do you want me to do with these results?" Greg grinned, and it took Sara a few minutes to process this response. She snarled in disgust.

"Grand Puba or nada." He said, flicking the top of the turban. Sara growled.

"May I have the fiber results, _Grand Puba_?" She muttered through a clenched jaw. Greg burst into a fit of laughter.

"Oh my god, guys, she said it! Hodges, where's my twenty bucks?" He announced to the lab. The techs laughed, all except Hodges, who grumbled and shoved a wrinkled twenty into Greg's outstretched hand. He subsequently took the turban off, through the bill in, and put it back on. Sara practically screamed in outrage and snatched the folder from Greg's other hand, storming out of there. Greg laughed and put the turban back into the bin of retail Halloween costumes stashed under the table.

--

"What's with Ecklie? He just came in dripping wet, gave me double shift when I asked him about it." Catherine said the next day, running a hand through her damp blonde hair, tossing her equally damp umbrella to the floor. Rain pounded against the windows with the force of bullets, practically breaking the glass. Nick, who was flipping through a manila folder, shrugged.

"Something about the techs, I guess." He mumbled, barely picking his eyes up. Catherine glared at him for lake of concern and made for Grissom's office to get her assignments for the day. On the way, she pasted a room, the only one with it's door open. She knew it as one of the lesser A\V labs, due to it's size being compatible with a broom closet, and that it was barely used due to it's low-tech VCR and black-and-white 2-inch screen. Also, at one point, it actually might've been a bathroom, as it smelled like stale vomit and crap. Catherine stopped in her tracks and, quietly, peaked inside.

There they were, the techies, hovering over the tiny TV. Archie, laughing, slouched horizontally on an office chair, feet spread apart, popcorn in the space of chair that gap left, in a very awkward place, really. Henry, leaning against the creaky table that supported the TV, one hand on his stomach to ease the uncontrollable guffaws he bellowed out, snorting like a pig. Hodges merely leaned against Archie's chair, smirking and chuckling along with his comrades. Mandy, holding her glasses with one hand, wiping tears from her eyes in the other, hunched over slightly. Wendy, in a blow-up beanie chair on the floor, giggling uncontrollably. Finally, Greg, sitting on the table and leaning forward to see the screen, clinging to the edge for support, as his laughs were loudest of all, so much he sounded like he was having trouble breathing. Catherine could not see why they were laughing, but she guessed it was something on the screen.

"Play it again!" Mandy snorted suddenly, clapping a little. Archie reached over to rewind the tape.

Deciding to make her presence known, Catherine tapped the door with her toe. The lab techs sprung into action. Archie scrambled to pop a video out of the ancient VCR, then looked rapidly for a place to hide it. He settled on Henry's pants, grabbed a paddle, and proceeded to bouncing the little ball attached to it up and down. Henry, with the videotape in a most unpleasant place, reached over to knock to popcorn to the floor and under the table, followed by picking up an upside-down, water-damaged copy of Sports Illustrated and pretending to read it. Wendy popped her balloon chair with her sharp pinky nail and shoved the remnants into a corner, then slouched against the wall in feigning sleep. Greg jumped off the table (more like fell, really, as the impact of Archie's mad dash caused the table to skid to the side, sending him toppling to the ground), reached for a random book lain askew on the floor, and began to read out loud. Mandy and Hodges peered over his shoulder and began to nod rapidly.

"See, the cat wasn't actually _in _the hat, he was wearing it!" Greg explained, as if this was some sort of unknown epiphany. Hodges and Mandy looked shocked.

"Oh, I see!" Mandy beamed, smiling a toothy grin.

"It's all so clear now!" Hodges announced, puffing out his slumpish chest. Catherine laughed and walked inside the tiny room.

"What were you doing?" She asked, eyes traveling to the bulge that had migrated to Henry's ass. Greg shrugged.

"This." He said plainly, going back to his book (which was actually an upside-down dictionary from 1976). Catherine raised an eyebrow. Greg glanced up again nervously.

"The revolution is now." He said, as if that explained it all. Catherine shook her head.

"The revolution is not now, what were you doing?" She asked again. Greg put down the book and stood up, his spikes conveniently making him slightly taller than the older woman.

"I don't see how that's any of your business, mommy-dearest." He smirked an adorable smile that made Catherine soften. For a minute.

"Cute. Let me see that tape." She said flatly. The grin disappeared.

"Fine. You wanna go get it?" He gestured towards Henry's pants. Mandy snorted into a stifled laugh. It was Catherine's turn to smirk.

"Okay, Henry, come over here." She turned the nerdy lab tech in triumph. Henry squeaked, dropped the magazine, and scrambled into the corner.

"Fine, take it!" He exclaimed, extracting a video tape from his slacks and throwing them to the motherly CSI. She caught it easily and smiled triumphantly at the glaring Greg. She slid Archie's chair against the wall, sending his paddle to fly through the air and hit Wendy's head. She flopped out of her fake slumber in time to see Catherine slide the tap into the VCR.

"Damn it!" She mumbled, getting to her feet.

"Let's see what's so hysterical…" Catherine trailed, pressing play.

On the little black and white screen, it showed a clear picture of Ecklie's office. It was empty for a few minutes before Greg came scampering in, totting with him a big red plastic bucket.

"What the--" Catherine's question went unheard, as the room had burst into giggles when the little black-and-white Greg climbed up onto the swivel chair behind Ecklie's desk, tying the handle to the ceiling with an unseen rope. Hopping off, he tied the other end to the chair's leg before running out of the office at bullet speed. A moment later, Ecklie came in, apparently whistling, and slide the chair out as he sat down.

The bucket came barreling down on the assistant director's head, pouring thick green liquid. Catherine turned to see the lab rats guffawing all over again. Wendy was leaning against Greg's shoulder to keep herself steady, while Hodges rolled on the floor, barely breathing.

Footsteps interrupted the merriment.

"When I get my hands on whoever…"

"Ecklie!" Mandy squealed, ducking for the VCR. Catherine was amazed at how synchronized they all were, in perfect step with the other, like they rehearsed it or something.

In moments, any trace of a single rat had disappeared, leaving Catherine, dumbfounded, in the swivel chair, confused. Ecklie poked his head in, and for the first time she noticed green goo dangling from his ear.

"Have you seen Sanders?" He asked Catherine.

"Nope." She answered, catching eye of a hunching Greg.

"Hodges?"

"Nope."

"Simms?"

"Nope."

"Webster?"

"No."

"Johnson?"

"No."

"Andrews?"

"Where do you think this is going?"

Ecklie scowled, but continued his search down the hall. Greg's head resurfaced from the depths of the table.

"How'd he know it was us?" He asked. Hodges appeared.

"'Us'? If they go by DNA, you were solo." He snipped, dusting off his pants. Catherine laughed.

"Have fun ducking Ecklie, I've got stuff to do." She chuckled, making a U-turn for the door. Wendy stopped her.

"You're not going to tell, are you?" She asked, brow wrinkled in worry. Catherine laughed again.

"The revolution is now, remember?"

A\N-this was stupid and pointless, but whatever. Flames keep me toasty.


End file.
